


Frail, Fleeting, and Powerful

by hopesetfree, rushingwind



Series: Point of View 'Verse [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, Doctor John Sheppard, Episode: s02e12 Epiphany, Episode: s03e06 Point of View, F/M, Fix-It, Military Elizabeth Weir, Quantum Mirror, Reverse universe, Scientist John Sheppard, Transposition universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopesetfree/pseuds/hopesetfree, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rushingwind/pseuds/rushingwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born from a prompt: "Elizabeth from a universe where John is dead meets John from a universe where Elizabeth is dead." </p><p>If Colonel Elizabeth Weir thinks it's bad when "space-time Stargate crash" is the most accurate way to describe how her team ended up in this version of Atlantis, running into her dead ex-boss just makes it all a lot worse. Especially since she's the one that got him killed—<i>twice</i>. </p><p>(Features a military Elizabeth Weir and a diplomat, non-military John Sheppard. All from the canon AU timeline from the SG-1 Episode 3x06 "Point of View" intersecting with the Atlantis main timeline. Because AUs are even more fun when they're canon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frail, Fleeting, and Powerful

**Author's Note:**

> Set two years after "Enemy at the Gate". You'll enjoy this a lot more if you're at least passingly familiar with the alternate reality featured in the [SG1 3x06 episode "Point of View"](http://gateworld.net/sg1/s3/306.shtml) (Gateworld's short description that I've linked here is all you need, really). Also, this doesn't follow anything that happens in Stargate Universe at all (never watched it, sorry).
> 
> Thank you to LJ user havocthecat for the prompt. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Stargate is owned by MGM.

Elizabeth tumbles hard out of the Stargate and has honest-to-god never been so glad to crash face-first into the floor and taste blood. She's absolutely positive it hurts a lot less than sticking around for anything the monstrous reptile chasing them has in store—and she's totally not in the mood for her team to become dino-chow today. "Raise the shield! Now!" she barks, and the familiar, steady hum fills the air behind her.

She's about to start yelling at someone about all this, because who the hell was that guy working the radio? And why isn't Grodin on duty, for that matter? It's _his_ shift, she thinks sullenly, wondering if he'd been reassigned. She knows all the technician's shifts like the back of her hand, because she likes to time her team's stuff to Peter's schedule. He's pretty much the only one who routinely has his crap together anymore. 

And anyway, why was the mystery technician trying to talk her out of coming through the gate when she'd radioed in and _clearly_ said that Atlantis' primary off-world team was being chased by a hungry, oversized monster? What part of, "There's a goddamn T-Rex chasing us," isn't crystal clear?

And why the hell is it so cold in here?

When she looks up, however, she nearly gasps and all of that kind of dissolves into a file she labels "later," because now is not the time. She springs to her feet like a cat, her P-90 ready in her hands, because Atlantis _does not_ look like it did an hour ago. It'd been an absolute wreck in the process of total reconstruction, and now it looks pristine—like a bomb had never gone off in the gate room (which it totally had, just two weeks ago).

Lieutenant Lorne is walking towards them, unarmed, cautious, but nonetheless welcoming. She wonders why he's breaking regulation and not carrying his sidearm. "Welcome to Atlantis Prime, Elizabeth," he says, his voice strained. 

What? Atlantis _Prime_? She looks around, notices the security detail has them completely surrounded, and has not yet lowered their weapons. It goes against her instincts, but hey, it's _Lorne_ , right? And he's unarmed. She could take Evan in a wrestling match if she had to go at it bare-handed (well, she likes to think so, anyway). So she motions for her team to lower their weapons—slowly. It wouldn't do to get in a firefight when they're outnumbered and outgunned. She fixes Lorne with a hard stare.

"Lieutenant, explain."

He gives her team an appraising look, his eyes examining the zat'ni'katel holstered on her belt—she knows it's an odd sight in Atlantis, but she's never stopped carrying her trusty zat since the Invasion years ago. He seems to accept it, then waves off the security detail. To Elizabeth's great surprise, they lower their weapons and go back to regular patrol duty, though she notices she's getting a few odd glances. "This will be news to you, but you're not exactly in Kansas anymore." The Stargate disengages with a _pop_ behind them. "You'd have to ask Dr. McKay for specific details, but there's been kind of an accident."

 _Another_ accident? Oh Lord, give her strength. Deliver her from this ridiculousness. "Did Rodney and Radek break something _else_ while we were gone?" She knows her eyes are blazing with fury and she's already shouting (it never takes long), but then she's not known for her patience. "Lieutenant, I thought I told you to keep them out of the gutter maze of the City unless an appropriate chaperone could go with them." Every bit of her annoyance makes it into her voice, because she is so tired of this crap. "Every time those two get to tinkering with new Ancient tech, things go to hell around here and we have 'accidents'." 

In her agitation, she peels some kind of plant-based slime off her uniform, something that had been gross and sticky on the planet (and very quickly forgotten when the T-Rex look-a-like appeared). Curiously, it's now frozen and solidified. No matter. She throws it on the ground in frustration, because dammit, she's so tired of having to clean up everyone else's 'accidents'. 

The plant residue shatters like glass when it hits the floor, momentarily startling her. That was unexpected. But she does feel a little better. Fine, she'll settle for punishing the plant for this. For now.

John would have probably had a fit over this kind of an outburst from her, if only he were here to see it. Soberly, she thinks that she'd actually be willing to go back and play 'tag' with that T-Rex if it meant she could argue with John for just _five minutes_. No, she wouldn't even argue. She'd just let him lecture her, and she'd listen and memorize everything about those five minutes.

In any case, Woolsey's not here yet, but he's extremely likely to come running down the stairs and tear into her in about five seconds. Evan, for his part, looks shocked, having gone completely slack-jawed. She notes with growing discomfort that he's not the only one, as a few of the other guards are staring at her like she's grown a second head. As for Lorne, he couldn't look any more shocked than if she'd reached out and slapped him (which she'd never do. She'd go straight for a left hook). 

Something in her cheek twitches as she notices that everyone is still staring at her. Some people look like they might be laughing. Okay. She's high on adrenaline. She just had to outrun a T-Rex. There's been an accident here and she doesn't yet know what's going on. She should probably say something a little more calm now. "I apologize for my inappropriate outburst, Lieutenant. I'm just _tired_ of the science lab and their experiments gone wrong." She clears her throat. "So, an accident, you say?" She grips the strap on her P-90 so hard her knuckles turn white. Oh man, she just doesn't have patience right now. "Did Rodney break my City again?"

Oops. That last sentence came out very harsh.

All at once, Lorne bursts out laughing, and now she's more confused than ever. She glances back at Teyla, Ronon, and Ford, and they look similarly puzzled.

"Lieutenant?" she says, her pronunciation sharp and her tone dangerous. Whatever's going on here, she doesn't think laughter and the word 'accident' should exist in the same space.

"Uh, no ma'am. Not quite." Getting a hold of himself, he calms a bit. "I'm sorry about that." He clears his throat. "I'm afraid it's actually a bit more serious than that."

More serious than that one time Rodney _actually_ managed to break the City? She finds nothing amusing about this prospect at all. "Explain. Now. That's an order from your superior officer."

He almost stutters, but finally starts talking. "There's been a Stargate accident, like a tear in space-time which is bringing everyone who tries to dial into Atlantis in any parallel universe... well, here. That's why we're calling it Atlantis Prime. It's the 'Prime' reality all the other realities are being drawn to, you could say."

A full four seconds pass. She blinks.

Well, crap. 

She considers briefly that maybe he's lying, but then she remembers that a bomb exploded in her Atlantis' gate room two weeks ago, and that totally doesn't look like it happened here. 

She glances back at Major Ford, who looks small and a bit spooked, but he manages to nod at her. "It's entirely possible, Colonel. We did seem to spend a really long time in that wormhole."

Yeah, she noticed that sickeningly long trip, too, right down to the deep chill soaking her skin and bones—something the Earth Stargate has been calibrated to deal with for more than a decade, and a problem the Atlantis Stargate never had in the first place. She remembers the plant-slime that was frozen a moment ago, and it all makes a little too much sense.

It's Ford's voice that breaks her from her quiet debating.

"Atlantis Prime? _Prime_? Did McKay come up with that?" It might be the most critical she's ever heard Aiden's voice, and she has to agree—it does kind of sound like a McKay-ism.

Lorne smiles apologetically. "Well, you know how he is about naming things. He got it from Star Trek. Alternate universes and stuff. I think he named it after Spock Prime."

"Spock...Prime? Who is that?" Ford's voice is even more skeptical, if possible.

"From the new Star Trek movies, yeah? You know, the remakes of the original series?"

She actually hears Ford gasp, as if this is the most important development in the history of ever. "No way! They actually _remade_ the original series?"

"Yep!" Lorne answers, grinning ear-to-ear.

"Seriously?" Ford sounds like Christmas just came early. "Who'd they cast as Uhura?"

 _"Gentleman,"_ Elizabeth sternly cuts them off. "Perhaps movie night can wait until we've had a briefing?"

Both men look sufficiently chastised, and she has to fight to keep a smile off her face. Leave it to Ford to make something cute out of this situation. She turns back to Lorne, the mood sufficiently lightened. "Evan," she says gently, "can you send us back?"

He nods. "Something similar happened back at the SGC on Earth a few years ago. We're in the process of implementing the necessary procedures now. I'm afraid you'll be stuck with us for a good 48 hours, though."

SGC? Well, that's different. She pushes the odd abbreviation aside for the moment. "Well," she sighs, "I'm sure there's a Rodney or a Radek _somewhere_ to blame for all this."

Lorne opens his mouth, then clamps it shut again, looking as if he might break into hysterical laughter again. Okay. So if this is an alternate universe, and they know her, she must not be acting anything like they're used to. That explains all the laughing. She can deal with that. It's _so_ much better than shouting.

"Looks like we'll be getting that SG-1 Trifecta medal from Colonel Mitchell when we get back home, ma'am," Ford offers.

Okay, that actually makes her snort with a bit of laughter, however inappropriate the setting. They'd managed to get themselves stuck in an alternate dimension a few months ago with some banged-up Ori technology they'd been salvaging. She'd had a time-travelling adventure three years prior, and then a second time a few months ago with the whole team along for the ride. And _now_ they're taking a stroll in an alternate reality. As Colonel Mitchell had treated the team a month ago to games and movies over pizza and beer in Colorado Springs, along with the company of SG-1, he'd casually mentioned that all they needed was to take a left turn and get lost in an alternate universe somewhere and he'd give them super-special medals for scoring the fabled SG-1 trifecta. 

She thinks she's going to hold him to that. The General would get a kick out of it, at least.

But her mind springs back to the present with urgency, recalling the Goa'uld Invasion of 1999, and the events that unfolded at the SGA back at her universe's Earth. She hadn't been with the Stargate program yet, she was too busy in the trenches, fighting against the Jaffa. Afterwards, though, when they were gone, and she reported in for duty, they'd recruited her in a hurry—anyone military who'd actually survived was kind of priority personnel for the Stargate program, at that point. She'd served on SG-2, Kawalsky's team, for years, before they promoted him and put him in charge of the whole place. 

"What about entropic cascade failure?" she asks. "In our universe, we've had experiences with alternate realities through a device we call a quantum mirror." 

Elizabeth thinks briefly about Doctor Samantha Carter and General Kawalsky (though he'd been a Major, then), charging through the quantum mirror and finding another universe willing to help them fight off the Goa'uld invasion. Thank goodness that they'd succeeded and contacted the Asgard, or Elizabeth's universe would have had a dismal future at the hands of Apophis. If it hadn't been for that mirror...

"Ah, well, our quantum mirror was destroyed some time ago after we had some unannounced visitors," Lorne explains. "And we're hoping to have you all out of here before entropic cascade failure becomes a problem. Though several of our visitors come from universes that are in such close proximity to our own that they won't be subject to it at all. You'll have to go to our infirmary for testing to be certain. The scanners there can pinpoint the amount of spatial variance between our universes." He pauses, uncomfortably. "Though it won't be a problem for you, Elizabeth, or for you either, Ford. Not here."

She considers this a moment, and realizes that there's only one possible reason for such certainty. "Our counterparts here are dead?"

Evan looks pained, and Elizabeth thinks perhaps she should have worded that a bit more gently. Well, again, she never has had a flair for being too nice. Wouldn't be the first time she accidentally made an ass of herself. 

"Ford died in battle against the Wraith. You died a few years ago at the hands of the replicators."

Replicators...

It couldn't be, could it?

Both the vagueness of his answer and the parallel feel uncanny, settling in a rotten pit in her stomach. Somehow, she just _knows_. It's probably not the time to ask, but she suddenly has to know, right now. "Were you, by any chance, raiding the replicator homeworld for a Zero Point Module?"

He nods. "Yes, ma'am. She sacrificed herself so the rest of the team could escape."

 _Keep it together, Colonel_ , she thinks, and manages to keep her face neutral. "That's exactly how we lost Doctor Sheppard."

Evan frowns. All the levity has evaporated out of this conversation. "He's Colonel John Sheppard here. He's second-in-command, in charge of our military division."

Ridiculously, the first thing that comes to her mind is utter disbelief that the diplomat and peacemaker she'd known, that _John Sheppard_ would ever touch a weapon of his own free will, much less join the military. The second thought, then, is that the Lieutenant has referred to John in the present tense.

"John Sheppard is alive in this universe?" she asks, uncertain if she's keeping a straight face.

"Yes, ma'am."

How ironic that she and her team would wander into a parallel world where she is dead and he is alive. She almost can't stomach the thought of seeing him, and yet seeing him is all she wants to do. No, she thinks. Keep to business.

"Is there anything we might do to help?" she changes the subject, turning to face her team. "This is Teyla Emmagan, leader of the Athosians. Ronon Dex, a survivor of Sateda, and Major Aiden Ford, our team scientist. Also, the rock-star kid genius of the team." She smiles at him. Ford looks like he might melt under the praise. 

Lorne nods his head in greeting, and her team—a bit shell-shocked and confused, but she loves how adaptable and quick they all are—return the gesture. 

"I'm Major Evan Lorne."

She cringes. Major? Whoops. She salutes him, then reaches out to shake his hand. "I hope I did not insult you by calling you Lieutenant. I apologize, Major."

"You would not believe the things I've been called since people started arriving here," he says, half laughing. He returns her salute, then shakes his head. "It's... so good to see you, Elizabeth. This is the only team that's come in so far that has you in it."

This surprises her, but she nods (she hopes she's keeping an air of politeness about her). Her other self is long dead, after all, and it looks like her counterpart had friends here.

Well, obviously.

"I hope my presence doesn't put you ill at ease. Let me introduce myself properly. I am Colonel Elizabeth Weir, resident military commander of Atlantis in my reality."

"You're _military_?" he exhales, shaking his head at her. "I figured the gun was for the T-Rex your team radioed in about, but..! Wow!" 

She can't keep the amused smirk off her face. "I worked with the SGA on Earth for years before volunteering for the Atlantis Expedition." More like she was talked into it by a diplomat who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, but that's another story. "What exactly was my role here?"

"You were in command, our civilian leader. Doctor Elizabeth Weir."

She can't really imagine her life outside of the military anymore (though, there had been once, she'd _maybe, just maybe_ , thought she could hack it, but she's getting too nostalgic for one evening), so to that, she doesn't really know what to say.

* * *

Elizabeth finds this reality very much like hers, but turned inside out. All the puzzle pieces are there, but they've just been rudely rearranged. Rodney is the arrogant one, while Zelenka is the quiet genius (she can't fathom it, even while watching it. It's unthinkable to have them working together and not breaking things all the time). Samantha Carter, currently present in Atlantis and assisting with the mini-disaster they have on hand, is military instead of a civilian. Jack O'Neill is even alive—and a _general_.

Peter Grodin is dead here, and Chuck operates his station in his place. It's the other way around in her world. Chuck died years ago, in Peter's place on the Lagrangian satellite just before the Wraith's first siege. 

She manages to get some details from Major Lorne about things back on Earth. Kawalsky is dead, apparently having died right at the onset of the Stargate program. The thought makes her stomach twist in knots and it just feels so wrong. Not Kawalsky, the calm, intelligent, good-natured man who guided them all back at the SGA. He knew how to handle _everything_. How did they make it without him? Though the answer is obvious enough, that Jack O'Neill simply stepped into Kawalsky's shoes here, it still doesn't feel right. Her friend is gone, remembered by so few here, it seems.

And then there's John, who is alive. She tries not to think about it, and doesn't yet know what to even say. 

Well, that's not exactly true. There is an ache, deep within her, filled with so much guilt. _I will always find you_ , his voice says. His presence here, in this universe, is a reminder that she failed him so completely in hers. 

It's strange to see him in military fatigues, with a weapon at his side. She can remember all those times spent standing side-by-side with him. They were a unified force. He was the smooth-talking diplomat who marched into Genii territory alone and demanded bombs, and got them—all while she worked during that first siege of Atlantis to coordinate the military forces into something that might be able to feasibly survive (before she got the bright idea to fly a puddle jumper into a Wraith ship to blow it up, but then the Daedalus came along with Colonel Caldwell, so she got to live through that adventure. John had even hugged her when she came back). He'd felt true, profound sympathy for the plight of the replicators when Niam showed him their past, then was rewarded for his kindness by having to fight off a nanite invasion of his brain—which he did using pure strength of will (though she likes to think that when she broke quarantine and grabbed his hand that it helped, a little). 

And that last terrifying vision of him, with his hand in Oberoth's forehead, shouting at her and her team to leave him behind on Asuras—that's the one that haunts her in her nightmares. Ronon had to pull her away initially, but she had complied. Atlantis had to be saved. She had to get the ZPM back, had to sit in the chair, and fly the city to a new world. It was her duty.

She left him behind. She should have fought Ronon. She should have gone back. She should have never let Rodney go through with his stupid, stupid plan. She should have done _something_.

Yes, everything that happened in her reality happened here, but twisted around and topsy turvy. Here, she'd been the diplomat, she'd been the one who fought off the nanites, she'd been the one who'd been left behind on the replicator homeworld. She and John had neatly switched places in their respective realities. Here, he had the Ancient gene, while she did not. From the beginning of the Atlantis Expedition onward, it seemed that nearly everything she'd done there, he'd done here. And there were so many other strange harmonies in the distant past that echoed between them, shining as markers on a worn trail.

This was straight-up like something out of a horror movie, like donor surgery between universes. Neatly done, yes, but somehow leaving ragged scars that still ache.

She wonders, as they go through the same briefing he and Woolsey have no doubt done with every other team, if he feels the guilt she does. If this John feels as heavy, weary, and regretful as she does.

* * *

A day goes by, and she has a talk with the Samantha Carter native to this Atlantis. Or, not Atlantis, but Earth. This Samantha Carter commands a ship (which sounds pretty sweet. Elizabeth has wondered off and on about maybe getting one of those one day). Also, this Samantha Carter? She goes by Sam, is a full-bird colonel, and acts both exactly and nothing like the Doctor Carter she knew for a while at the SGA. She's both badass and a bit unsettling at the same time.

Elizabeth can't help but bring up the story of the quantum mirror, and with some wonderment, they compare notes. As they get deeper into their stories, the realization sets in that it very well may be that Elizabeth has wandered into the very same alternate reality that Doctor Carter sought help from. 

As they talk, she finds herself stunned. Are these the people that literally saved her universe's Earth from destruction? What are the odds of these two universes meeting again? (Quite small, as the Colonel tells it.)

She thanks Sam, nonetheless. It's completely worth it to deliver a "thanks for saving my planet from enslavement" sentiment, even if words can never be enough. Then they reminisce. Elizabeth tells Sam all about Kawalsky, about how he's a General now and running the SGA. She tells her about her own path to joining the Air Force, their counterattack when Apophis invaded, and how she'd fought in trenches side-by-side with militiamen, anarchists, and anyone else who could hold a weapon and dared to fight back. How just resisting the Goa'uld and living through it had been nearly impossible, and how so very amazing it had been when the Asgard showed up _out of nowhere_ to save them. 

Sam smiles fondly, and Elizabeth wonders if she maybe hasn't thought about it in a long time. It was the most important thing that ever happened on her universe's Earth, but for Colonel Carter, she supposes it may have been just another mission. True, she didn't technically go through the mirror herself, but she was integral to its success. She provided and helped fix the device that contacted the Asgard. 

Funny, that. The most important thing that ever happens to one universe might be business as usual to the other.

When Sam inevitably asks about her counterpart's fate, Elizabeth tells the truth—to a point. Sam had joined the Tok'ra. She just leaves out the part where she was killed in a Goa'uld attack a few years later.

Elizabeth's surprised to hear how late she came into the Stargate program here. Not until the discovery of the Ancient Outpost. And how spectacularly bad of an entrance could one make, in regards to timing! But it sounds like she'd caught up fast and trusted this universe's SG-1, earning their respect in the process. In any case, it sounds like she couldn't have been too bad of a character.

* * *

Nostalgia time over, she checks in with her team. 

It's been determined that entropic cascade failure will indeed be a problem, so Teyla and Ronon are in the infirmary, resting under the watchful eyes of Dr. Beckett-who-isn't-really-Beckett and Dr. Keller. Keller is a new face for Elizabeth, but everyone has complete faith in her, so Elizabeth tries to relax about it. Dr. Beckett-Clone, on the other hand, makes her subtlety uncomfortable, though she tries hard not to show it. Her Carson Beckett is alive and well, thank you very much. None of that exploding tumor business.

She's going to get Zelenka to find that awful device and destroy it as soon as she gets back home, because hell if anyone is going to die from a goddamn _exploding tumor_ on her watch. Of all the ways to die.

Ford, always the energetic little genius, helps the scientists. Being that he's also dead here, he's free to wander around like she is. Ronon and Teyla (and some of their counterparts) rest and wait, hoping that the science wizards can beat the clock. At least the infirmary has a way to treat entropic cascade failure in the short term. They're not confined, but are advised to do absolutely nothing strenuous. Bed rest is ideal. 

It sounds extreme, even to Elizabeth (actually, it sounds mind-numbing and boring). She's not a doctor or a scientist, though, so she defers to their good judgment. And is glad she doesn't have to do the same. 

Bored herself, she joins guard duty in the gate room, awaiting any incoming teams. While she's there, they manage to contact and turn away four teams, while two teams have no choice but to come through. It brings the total up to eight foreign teams in 'Atlantis Prime,' including hers. 

Everyone is repeatedly surprised to see her. Everyone. It begins to irritate her after a while, because she seriously has to be alive _somewhere_ else, right? Her presence becomes disruptive enough when the third new team arrives that she asks Major Lorne for permission to be excused from guard duty. He agrees with an apologetic expression that it's probably for the best. 

As she passes through the gate room to leave, she notices John—no, not John, _Colonel Sheppard_ —standing out on the balcony, staring out at the sea. It touches something raw in her heart, a jagged, half-healed wound that never quite closed. That wistful look, that breeze blowing through his hair—if it weren't for the clothes, he could be _her_ John. 

She sets her jaw stiffly and forces herself to walk away. He was never _her_ John to begin with. Not in her reality, and definitely not in this one. 

She's too bitter about everything anymore to consider it, because life is just one giant clusterfuck after another. Seeing him here just reminds her of her worst failure of all.

* * *

It's taking longer for them to "fix the problem," and it looks like they'll be stranded in Atlantis Prime for another few days. At least two of the teams are showing signs of illness, and while Dr. Beckett-Clone and Dr. Keller can keep everyone comfortable and slow down the process, she understands that everyone needs to be out within a week of arriving. She feels a pang of responsibility for getting her team into this mess, and is silently grateful that they've only been here two days. 

Only. What a fucking joke.

She feels a little ill herself, and supposes that she's worked herself up so much over seeing John again that she's killed one of her adrenal glands, somehow. Also, all this hiding from people gets exhausting, because she's really getting tired of feeling awkward for being alive when their Elizabeth is dead.

She'd thought before that this universe and hers were very neatly swapped around and turned inside out, but somehow managing to stay very much the same. She has found in her brief time here, however, there are a few holes she can't quite reconcile. For instance, she's already established that Doctor Carter is dead in her reality, as is her husband, Colonel O'Neill. But both are alive in this reality, and apparently just now getting around to the whole married thing.

Well, she supposes there's a strange, backwards sort of harmony in that. 

Zelenka and Rodney have neatly swapped places, but the men are buddies in her reality. Here, they seem to hate each other passionately. Actually, now that she thinks about it, that's sort of a harmony, too, just turned inside-out. The sum of the parts still, ridiculously, somehow comes out to be the same (with a few less explosions, though).

Richard Woolsey is exactly the same in both places. She sees no difference, other than the fact that he's her boss back home, and here he is one of her successors. He's actually not so bad to talk to here. Maybe that counts as a difference. 

She's not sure about Ronon. Apparently even after all this time in Atlantis, he remains a character mysterious to all but his closest friends. It's a stark difference from the literary genius she knows and trusts on her team. Both men are fierce warriors, but she smiles to herself, wondering if the Ronon of this reality is concealing his true brilliance. She intends to ask him about that.

Teyla has a _child_ here. It only surprises Elizabeth initially, but she's always known her best friend would be an amazing mother if she ever decided to go down that path. Good for her. Maybe if her Teyla became a mother, she'd have an excuse to get out of sparring lessons.

Oh, how John used to tease her about those sparring sessions. He was smart enough never to take Teyla up on the offer to learn. He was adamant that he didn't have a fondness for getting his tail handed to him. 

She sighs. This is so stupid. Why is she so worked up about this?

She does and she doesn't know why. The idea of talking to John makes her feel ill. What does she even hope to accomplish, anyway? Does she expect him to absolve her of her sins? Forgive her for leaving him behind and never coming back to get him? She knows there's no forgiveness for that, and even if there could be, he can't grant it. She didn't wrong him, she wronged _her John_ (no, not _my_ John, _my universe's_ John). No, she sighs. Talking to John will accomplish nothing. 

Of course, not talking to John is also making her feel pretty sick to her stomach right now, too.

She stands, straightens her vest, and leaves her temporary quarters. There's no point in this. She's a pro. She's battled Jaffa, system lords, and wraith. She can handle a little conversation. She'll just go say "hello" and be done with it (as if anything were ever that simple with him—but she pointedly ignores that thought). 

When she reaches the gate room, she looks over to see Woolsey in his office. It's nighttime, though not so late yet. She's about to cross the walkway to ask him about John when she sees him out there, on the balcony. Their balcony. 

Was it their balcony here, too? Did the Elizabeth here ever secretly think of it that way? Did John?

This is a bad idea. She thinks about turning around and leaving, but instead her legs take her straight outside. No retreat now, she thinks. 

He doesn't turn around, doesn't even seem to notice she's there. They stand in silence for a while, her hovering behind him at the door, him at the railing, his eyes affixed on the sea beyond.

"I wondered what I would say to you if you came to talk to me," he finally says, not turning around. "Now that you're here, I still don't know what to say."

He certainly sounds like the Doctor Sheppard she knew. "That makes two of us," she admits. Slowly, she makes her way to the balcony railing, leaning up against the partition opposite of him. How many times had they done this in her world? This had been a routine. God, the only time that life had made some sense, like she'd finally found the _right_ place. That the endless bitterness she'd felt her entire life had started to slowly seep away. 

It wasn't just an ocean and a balcony and a legendary city. It had been a peacemaker and a warrior. A shield maiden and a prince. A leader and his guardian. Two people that were nearly as different as people could be, and somehow, they had found each other in that strange and wonderful place.

Had it been the same here? She almost smiles. Of course it had.

She draws up short, can't believe she's thinking like this. Such silly, silly, stupid, stupid thoughts. She's no shield maiden and he had been no prince. And she had made a horrible guardian, if she wanted to think about it like that. 

Of course, it would be John Sheppard, by the mere power of his presence, who could draw anything other than vitriol or sheer indifference out of her. He had always possessed that talent. Or maybe it was John Sheppard and the power of the balcony put together.

"Did you and your John come out here a lot?" he asks, like he's reading her mind.

She smiles faintly to herself. "Yes. It was... our balcony. We never said it out loud, but we always came out here." She pauses. No point in leaving things unsaid now. "Just the two of us."

His eyes look so, so distant. Haunted. "So did we. This was our balcony, too."

She inhales the crisp night air, looking up at the twin moons. "Did you two ever speak of it?" She takes a breath, because she figures this isn't too much of a leap. "Of how much you loved her?"

He is silent so long she thinks he won't answer.

"No," he finally says, his voice restrained, "but I wish _every_ day that I had."

A lump sets in her throat, unbidden, her eyes stinging. She has to take a few breaths to steady herself. "So do I."

He turns to her, and its several long moments before she can bring herself to look at him. He looks much as she feels—pained, miserable, and just a little bit desperate. Desperate to flee, desperate for comfort, desperate for words—she doesn't know herself. All of the above, maybe. 

She blinks first, and can't stop her eyes from becoming watery. She clamps down, tries to make sure nothing escapes, because dammit, Elizabeth Weir does not cry. But she's come too far now to go back, she has to say it. 

"I left you behind," she says, her voice small and miserable. "I tried to find you, but..."

"I looked for you, too," he meets her, taking a step forward, sounding just as miserable. "I looked everywhere."

She closes her eyes, willing back the tears. The weakness. Everything that cost her John's life. It has to be squelched. "I wasn't strong enough. I didn't look hard enough." She keeps talking, and she fears she'll never keep a straight face. "I gave up looking when they—the Replicators—when they told me you were dead."

He makes a _noise_ , and it sounds so broken. She opens her eyes, and he looks more miserable than she's ever seen him, than she's ever imagined he could look. 

"I did the same thing," he admits, his voice impossibly small. "I can't sleep at night sometimes, you know. I dream about you. About how I just abandoned you on Asuras."

She's almost breathless with her own grief and horror for this John's pain. A perfect, gory, backwards, surgical switch. Surgery done with all the delicacy of jagged glass, slicing deep and painful, down to the crushing guilt they both carry with them every day. 

God, this hurts so much. 

"I dream about it, too," she says, reaching out to touch his arm. He opens his eyes, but doesn't otherwise react to her touch.

The memory returns unbidden. "You said, 'If you don't leave right now, _none_ of us will get out of here, so _go_ ,'" she recites. John's last words to her on Asuras. "That's... an order." She can't stop a noise from escaping her, quiet and small as it is. She bites on her bottom lip, hard, and shakes her head, scrunching her eyes closed. "That's an order," she repeats, softer, "that I should have never followed." A cold breeze goes by, and she shivers. "I left you behind. I _left_ you."

This time, it's his hands that reach up and grasp her arms, firm but gentle. She opens her eyes to meet his gaze. "You saved your Atlantis," he tells her. "You did the only thing you could."

It takes her a moment to reply. "So did you."

He doesn't respond at first, but his gaze drops. His eyes close after several long seconds. "I know." His fingers tighten momentarily around her arms, and when he speaks again, she has never heard him so anguished. "But I want her back." He squeezes his eyes. "I want—I want to tell her _so much_." 

Her eyes are so moist she can barely see, but she nods. "Me, too."

* * *

She picks at the food on her breakfast plate. The mess hall is loud and boisterous, with a full thirteen extra SG teams hanging around Atlantis Prime (good Lord, she's actually calling it that, now. God help her). She'll check in with Teyla and Ronon in the infirmary after she eats. _If_ she eats. This stuff is gross.

Apparently, talking with John only gave her more of an upset stomach. Forget having one worn out adrenal gland; she seems to have ruined them all in one go. She can't recall ever feeling so wrecked, and that's saying something since she knows what it feels like to be fed on by a Wraith. Then again, after she left John on the balcony and returned to her room last night, she did spend half the night sobbing, and exactly zero percent of the night actually sleeping.

She'd die before she'd admit to tears, though. Elizabeth Fucking Weir doesn't cry. After the Goa'uld invaded and she went underground with the remnants of her squad to fight, she banished tears and softness and all those things far, far away. Everything she once held dear melted into nothing about the time that aliens with snakes in their guts started shooting energy weapons at her. If you wanted to live back then, that was how it had to be.

_'You found me.'_

_'I will always find you.'_

No. NO. She pushes those soft thoughts of an Ancient Sanctuary somewhere far, far away. Her life has no place for such gentle words anymore. This life is all she knows, and all she has left now. She has no choice. She must continue. One day after another, after another, after another, until the day she finally runs out of days. In the meantime, she saves who she can, controls as much damage as she can. Does what she can. She exists.

She manages complete and utter silence in her brain for a few seconds before a stray thought catches her attention: Does the John here merely exist like she does, or live?

She's afraid she knows the answer.

She stabs at her egg repeatedly. She's probably scratching the plate at this point. Yeah, she really needs to think about something else.

She'd ask one of the doctors for something to help with her rotten stomach, but they're more than a little busy with the people who are in danger of actual death from this reality-crossing romp. An upset stomach kind of pales in comparison to that, so she decides to just suck it up and deal with it herself. She'll be back home soon. 

"Mind if I join you?"

She looks up, and of course, there's John. Of freaking course. And quite frankly, yes, she minds very much, thank you. She is wrecked enough for one lifetime. She doesn't need to spend the entire day as upset as she was last night. 

Then her mouth starts to move, and it doesn't obey her will at all. "Not at all, Colonel." 

Oh, what the hell. Why not? She might as well throw her fork at the table for all the fucks she gives in this moment. Why? Because fuck her, that's why. Forget the universe hating on her, the whole goddamn multiverse is apparently after her. Wherever she's not already dead, she's miserable.

Then she focuses on his smile, which is really warm. She remembers that smile. That bitterness-melting, kind-hearted smile. He's giving her that beautiful smile while so completely oblivious to her hateful internal dialogue right now. It should be a profane thing for her to think thoughts like these while he's smiling at her like that. And she almost cringes, realizing that she's squandering this rare opportunity to talk to John Sheppard—any version of John Sheppard—and she's going to sit here and sulk about how much her life sucks back in her universe?

 _Okay,_ she tells herself. _Let's take the bitterness level and dial it from 9000 down to about a 10._ She gives him the best smile she can muster at the moment, and fears it looks terribly forced. 

Fuck the universe. No, fuck the multiverse. She'll feel miserable later when she's back home, and all alone again. In the meantime, she's going to try and make conversation with the one person in more than a decade that somehow managed to make her feel human again. Who made her remember what it was to _feel normal_. 

If her smile looks forced, he gives no indication. Instead, his own warm smile turns into a lopsided smirk as he plops down in the seat across from her. The casual, careless way he expands to fill the space surprises her. 

Okay, her John wouldn't do that. Ever. He would have slowly slid the seat backwards, set the tray down carefully, then scooted himself into the table smoothly, all as if being judged on his manners. Always the diplomat, careful to keep up a proper presentation of himself. 

He notices her staring, and he chuckles. "What?" He stabs at some eggs with his fork, and starts eating, continuing to talk with his mouth full. "Did I do something wrong?"

Now she can't help but stare, because Doctor John Sheppard would be horrified to see himself—even an alternate reality version of himself—acting like this. He'd have the good grace to be embarrassed. She could even imagine him apologizing for himself. It begins with a chuckle, but before long she throws her head back and howls with laughter. Oh man, she hasn't done _that_ in a while.

Rodney sits down beside John about the time she's finally managing to get her laughter under control. "What's going on?" He also begins eating like it's going out of style, though she remembers with a hit of soberness that he's probably in a hurry to get back to the science lab. 

"I did something funny," John answers, not missing a beat, and still eating like nothing is out of place. "I think." He swallows something—probably egg (whatever is passing for egg, anyway). 

She's still shaking a bit with constrained laughter. "Okay, so... the John I knew? He was always so prim and proper. He must have known the manners of dozens of different races and knew how to not offend any of them." She punctuates her words with enthusiastic gestures, recalling some of the more colorful ceremonies he'd conducted with allies in the Pegasus Galaxy. She can't stop another brief spell of chuckling. "And I have never seen him just collapse in a chair and start talking with food in his mouth."

He looks genuinely amused, but there's a glint in his eye, as if he's privy to something she's not. She thinks, maybe, he's thinking of his Elizabeth.

Rodney, on the other hand, nearly chokes. "Prim and proper? _Sheppard?_ "

She nods severely. "Oh, yes. Very polite at all times." 

"Huh," Rodney grunts, his face twisting into a smirk. "How about that, John? It looks like we can train mules like you after all."

She can't help but laugh. "Oh fuck, Rodney. You're such an ass, here." 

Rodney drops his fork, his mouth agape as he stares as her wide-eyed. His expression is so aghast that she stops short. Her blood runs cold, and her laughter dries up immediately, suddenly worried that she's crossed some unspoken line.

"I didn't mean to offend you." It's the only thing she can think of to say. What would her John say? God, he would know the right words to use, and exactly how to diffuse a tense situation like this.

This time it's John who bursts out laughing, and she feels a bit relieved. "You didn't offend him," he says once he catches his breath, "he's just shocked to hear something like 'fuck' come out of _polite_ , prim, and proper Elizabeth Weir's mouth."

She snorts. "I am not prim and proper. And certainly not polite."

"You were here." He arches his eyebrow. "For real. I've even seen you in a dress. And you wore your hair down all the time." He makes some kind of gesture with his hand. "Not pinned up, all regulation like that."

She scrunches her nose. "I haven't worn a dress in more than a decade, and my hair is only shoulder-length because it's the length of least annoyance." She pauses thoughtfully. "I really wore it down all the time?"

"Every day. Fucking beautiful."

She inhales, and nods. "Touché. My John would never utter the word 'fuck.'"

"Oh, I don't know," he intones suggestively, his eyebrow arching. "You'd be surprised what a nice, beautiful woman can reduce a man to."

 _That_ thought is not one she wants to entertain, but it's way too late. Her brain is already so there. Her John is underneath her, gasping her name, _god_ , and _fuck_ , the subtle differences in his appearance and this universe's John so apparent. 

And it's such a cruel thing, she thinks, because she can never have it.

It takes five more seconds before she realizes that maybe this John is coming on to her. Maybe. She's not that sure. She's also not sure she's interested. It's John, sure, but it's not... _John_. 

Oh man. Yeah, she probably shouldn't go there or she'll be making all kinds of justifications.

"I'm not nice," she finally responds. "I'm a lying liar who lies."

Rodney, watching this exchange with _way_ too much interest, smirks at her. "You seem nice enough to me." 

She smirks. "I don't think anyone in Atlantis has called me 'nice' since I killed Kolya." She shrugs. "But thanks anyway."

Rodney, seeming to have forgotten about his food for a moment (she thinks this is indeed impressive), shakes his head. "Wait, wait. Kolya? Acastus Kolya of the Genii?"

She nods. "He made me think he'd killed you and John when that big storm blew through seven years ago and they tried to take Atlantis." She bites into the sponge-like bread, and finds it as disagreeable to her stomach as the eggs. "How are eating this crap?" she comments off-handedly before tossing the bread back to her plate. "Anyway, he showed up two years later and took me hostage, trying to force Dr. Sheppard to hand over Ladon Radim." She makes a face at the memory. Fun times. "I had to team up with a captive Wraith and we escaped together." She nibbles at a bite of egg with a devilish smirk. "I told Kolya I'd kill him if I saw him again. Bastard was stupid enough to push his luck, and I did just exactly what I said I would." She puts her fork down on the plate, knows her face is one of utter disgust—for either the food or for the memory of Kolya (or both). "He got what he fucking deserved."

John and Rodney both are giving her intrigued looks. "Did it happen that way here, too?" she asks, then frowns in thought. "But no, let me guess. John did all the things I did?"

John nods once, his lips twisting into a bit of a smirk.

"Thief," she grumbles at him playfully. "Stealing all my glory." She wipes her hands clean on a napkin. "Though I hope you at least got the chance to make that bastard suffer. He died too quickly for my tastes."

Rodney gapes in absolute astonishment. "I _like_ her!" he announces, far too loudly. Elizabeth finds she doesn't mind at all. 

"Rodney!" John chides, his voice with a bit of sharpness to it. 

"And I like you, Doctor McKay!" she loudly returns the sentiment. "Seriously, you're way more awesome than my Rodney. Can I take you with me?"

"Elizabeth!" John snorts, nearly choking on whatever he's trying to swallow. Elizabeth can't help but sit back and laugh at the entire scene, because it's actually kind of fun and relaxed—not at all like she'd feared it would be when John first sat down. 

Good Lord, had she actually been so bitter just a few minutes ago? She can barely remember, now.

Rodney is very obviously excited. "I mean, really! She's a freaking badass! I mean, could you ever imagine hearing _Elizabeth_ say things like 'awesome' and throwing around profanity like a sailor? And oh man, I would have paid money to see _you_ take Kolya down! I mean, after everything!" He seems to be completely serious, and he suddenly leans over the table, closer than he's been to her since she got there. "Do you fight with Teyla in the gym in your universe? You know, the stick fighting thing?"

She quirks an eyebrow in amusement, a good-natured gesture. She has a feeling that the question is more like, _'can I watch_?' But she kind of likes this Rodney, so she doesn't mind the banter. "Yes, my Teyla and I spar quite often. I've gotten good, but I suppose I'm not the best student. She still kicks my ass every time."

"And what about your John? How badly did she mess him up?"

She chuckles. "My John was smart. He never tried."

* * *

"Did you ever run into a replicator version of your John?" he ventures softly that evening, when they're on the balcony. 

She'd wondered if this would come up. "It wasn't really him."

He makes a face, and she knows that expression. So much self-doubt. "But did he claim to be?"

She exhales. She understands what he's really asking. "Yes. Emphatically."

His expression, for once, remains surprisingly open. "Do you ever wonder if maybe... if it was really him?" He closes his eyes, and looks away. "That he walked away through that space gate and just floated away into oblivion, and maybe it was really him?"

She frowns, because he looks so haunted by the memory, and he shouldn't be. She wonders if they've stumbled across the first true difference between their stories—a first fork in the road between their strangely harmonic lives. "I used to," she admits, feeling calm about it. "I used to stand here, look out at the ocean, and let the question torture me." She sighs deeply, the salty air filling her nostrils. 

"You overcame it?"

She meets his eyes, confused, and nods. "Yes..." Though she thinks that 'overcame' isn't exactly the word she'd use to describe it, she doesn't have the opportunity to elaborate before he's talking again.

"How? It—I can't stand it, sometimes."

Her eyes narrow marginally, her voice questioning. "It wasn't him. Hell, he was in so much of a hurry that he used the Fran template, even. Look, I do think that consciousness truly _thought_ he was John Sheppard, but he wasn't."

John looks so trapped, so caught up in pain. "I said the same thing to her." He huffs, a hollow laugh. "She used the Fran template, too. I told her, 'You may think you're Elizabeth Weir, but you're not.'" He looked away, back towards the ocean. "But I wonder, still, what if it _was_ her? What if I let her go again? They'd never let me go back for a replicator, but—I thought, you know, if I knew it really was her, I would throw it all away, I'd steal a jumper, and—."

Yes, okay, there is a very big discrepancy here. In the very recent past she turned left in her universe when he turned right in this one, and the consequences have not been favorable for him. Elizabeth puts her hand on John's shoulder to stop him. 

"John, it wasn't her." When he meets her eyes, she knows she must have the most befuddled expression on her face. "Don't you know?"

He catches on, and his expression turns curious. "No, I don't know. How do _you_ know?"

She hazards a guess at where things began to split. "Didn't you discover the database?"

"Database?"

"Yes, the Asuran Database. Just like the Ancient Database is here in Atlantis, the Asurans had a vast database of their own. We found one of their wrecked warships off-world, and managed to download an astonishing amount of information before it completely shorted out on us."

His expression becomes tight and neutral. "What did you find?"

Well, this is going to be a mind fuck for him. Too late to back out now, and it'll be infinitely better than him wondering forever if that replicator was the real deal.

"Doctor Sheppard was put into stasis after the replicators captured him, and taken off-world." She pauses for a moment, and collects herself. "In Oberoth's opinion, he was too valuable to kill and too dangerous to directly integrate into the collective. Later, when we destroyed the entire replicator collective, we shorted out all their systems across the galaxy, including any nanites tied into the main system. He died in that stasis unit, probably right after it would have lost its power." She hesitates. "It would have been like dying in one's sleep." After another beat. "Painless."

She doesn't actually know if that 'painless' part is true, but she'll lie if it helps this John cope. She can't stand to see him so miserable.

It's not how she really feels, though. Truth be told, she feels like she killed him twice. First when she abandoned him, and second when she took out the replicator homeworld without bothering to rescue him first. Nevermind that she didn't have any way of finding out where he was, and that the replicators' actions were forcing them to act. Feelings weren't always rational. 

She killed him twice. She tries not to think about that. She always thinks about that. 

His expression is utterly unreadable. "Painless? They wouldn't have tortured her?"

She shakes her head. "No. They just extracted information from his brain, then shipped him off for stasis." She keeps her face as even as she can, because that was actually just their best guess after looking at the Asuran Database, but this John Sheppard doesn't need to know that. "I'm not saying your Elizabeth had a lot of fun, but the Asura were machines. Efficiency was their thing. Download the information, then move on."

He remains silent for a long while, before uttering, "Oh." He looks a bit disturbed, but keeps it out of his voice. Perhaps he knows she's lying. Maybe he'd lie using the exact same words. If he knows, though, he doesn't say so. "So you actually had a body to send home, huh? I guess that might have helped with... closure, you know?"

She shakes her head, her heart clenching in her chest. "No, not yet. We haven't found the body, but we're still looking. There are a lot of stasis units, and so many bodies in that place." She pauses, closing her eyes. She will not tear up. She will not. "But we'll bring him home."

_I'll find him._

His expression changes, and she knows immediately what he's thinking—there's no way everything else has synchronized so harmoniously between their universes, but this one loose end could be left untied. "What's the gate address to this place?"

* * *

The next day sees considerable progress on the science front, and they're saying they'll be ready to send teams home by tomorrow. Well, that's all well and good. Elizabeth kind of hopes for another delay, selfishly—but she knows she has to leave, sooner or later.

There's a movie night going on. Everyone's watching _Star Trek_. She skips it. John always wanted to watch The Original Series with her, but they never got around to it. She's not about to go watch another universe's rebooted movie franchise without him. He would be as excited as Ford if he could be here for this. She wishes he could see it.

She always put him off about reading _War and Peace_ , too. She never bothered to crack open the first page until after he was gone. She always lied and said she was reading it very slowly. What a lying liar she is. She should have just read the damn book. All she could think of at the time was about how much of waste of time it was. How pointless of a book it was to read. She knew everything she needed to know about war, and about peace. She didn't need to read Tolstoy's thoughts on it. 

Oh, she knew a few things. She just hadn't gotten her most terrible lesson yet. She'd arrogantly thought she'd known all there was to know in warfare. She wouldn't have said that outright, but deep inside, she knows she must have believed it on some level. And peace, well, she'd never thought there was much to learn about peace. It was only in John's absence that she realized that she'd been learning about peace from him all along. That they _embodied_ war and peace themselves. And in his absence, oh, how she longed so much for peace once again. Peace she could never have.

Some things only happen once in a lifetime. She's not a doting romantic or anything like that, but having experienced it, she knows it. Some things only happen once. 

She thinks of an Ancient Sanctuary, where time flows askew to normal time. Where she waited six months for rescue. And where she would march back and wait six more just to hear five words _one more time_. 

Maybe, she thinks, just like some things only happen once in a lifetime, some things are only said once, too. 

And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

Just managing to even approach something like that—it brings her pain, but it somehow keeps her going, too.

She should have made time to watch _Star Trek_ with him. He brought it up a lot of times, until he finally just stopped, with this resigned little sigh. Said he wouldn't bother her about it anymore, but hey, if she wanted to try it, let him know. She'd been a little relieved. Now, looking back, she recognizes the gesture for what it was. He'd given up—probably in disappointment—because Elizabeth didn't want to even try and participate in something he clearly loved. He'd wanted to _share_ something with her. How had she not seen that? How had she missed it back then?

There's no reason the thought of this movie night should make her feel so miserable. There's every reason the thought of this movie night should make her feel so miserable. 

She's going to stop thinking about it. There are no answers here.

In any event, she thinks her current misery is geared more towards the fact that she's probably caught the flu or something, because she's graduated from an upset stomach to feeling like she's going to die. Actual people dying aside, it's probably time she goes to the infirmary, lest she start spreading some kind of alien bacteria between universes, or something. Which is also a very good excuse to get out of movie night, because people won't stop inviting her.

John's there when she arrives, and she can't miss the flash of concern on his face as she checks in and sits on an examination table. The place is loud and more than a bit crowded, so privacy is not really going to be a thing she gets right now. She feels bad enough that she doesn't care, as long as someone will give her something for the pain.

"Are you all right?" he asks, at her side so fast he might have materialized there. Just like he always used to do, she thinks. She almost leans into him, but remembers, a bit sullenly, that it's better that she doesn't.

He looks like John, sounds like John, even talks like John (sometimes). But he isn't _her_ John. It wouldn't be the same. When she looks up at him, she remembers her John fondly, and for once it doesn't feel like stabbing herself in the gut. Glasses. Slightly longer hair that she'd always wanted to reach out and ruffle with her hands. This warm-looking, gray, wool-sweater he often wore in the colder seasons. A more slender, less muscular figure. 

Yeah. Glasses. John doesn't wear glasses here. She should ask him about that. She thinks she likes him better with glasses, definitely. It's dorky, and cute. 

She faintly remembers that he's asked her a question. "I've had better nights." She smiles faintly, poking him in the shoulder. "It'll probably be busy between now and departure time, so make sure you keep a hold of those gate addresses I gave you."

He looks crestfallen at the word 'departure', but only for a moment. "Safe and sound, and programmed into the system already."

She would say more, but that's when Doctor Keller walks up, a warm smile on her face. Elizabeth thinks that she's going to have to look this woman up when she gets home. Teyla's had nothing but praise for her tireless work. "Elizabeth, it's good to see you." Her voice sounds watery, but it clears after a moment. "I'm sorry it's under these circumstances. How are you feeling?"

"Like a freaking train hit me."

Keller cringes, and then begins doing things that look like typical post-mission check-up procedures. When she goes to shoo John away, Elizabeth indicates that he can stay if he wants. And he does, hovering nearby. She thinks that she has no right to feel as comforted by that as she does. Then she tells that part of her brain to shut up, because it's not like she's ever going to get a chance to see him again, so she will enjoy his presence while she still can.

When Keller returns, she seems puzzled. "I can't find anything wrong with you."

Elizabeth second guesses whether or not she should try recruiting Keller into the Atlantis program in her world, because she knows something is totally wrong with her. "Look, I'm feeling awful."

She nods, a puzzled yet contemplative expression etched on her features. "I can see that. Clearly."

Elizabeth frowns. "I'm at least running a fever, right? I even _feel_ overheated."

Keller shakes her head. "No fever." She furrows her brow in contemplation, obviously deep in thought. A soft hum escapes her lips as she turns to the table to grab something. A few seconds later, whatever it is she's working with drops it out of her hand with a noisy clatter, and her body goes rigid. When she slowly turns back around, her face has drained of all color.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Elizabeth asks on impulse. She doesn't know this lady, but she knows a spooked expression when she sees one. 

"Just a—just a crazy thought." The woman visibly swallows. "How long have you been feeling ill?"

Elizabeth chews on her bottom lip a moment, thinking it over. She really has to quit that bad habit. "Maybe two days after I got here? All the food tasted terrible. I assumed I ate something bad."

"And you haven't been able to eat a thing since, right?"

Now it's Elizabeth's turn to look puzzled. "I didn't tell you that. I didn't tell anyone that. How did you know?"

Doctor Keller looks downright upset, her breath coming in heaving gasps. "Um, just..." She holds up both her hands in some kind of gesture that Elizabeth thinks must mean something important, but hell if she knows what. "Just a moment," the doctor utters again, turning to go to another table and retrieving a handheld scanner, her hands trembling. 

John, visibly alarmed, follows her. "Jennifer? Jennifer, what is it?"

"Just... just give me a moment! I need... I need to—."

But whatever it is, she doesn't even finish the sentence. It doesn't seem like she can. She returns to Elizabeth's side and hovers the white device near her face, her breath still fast and unsteady. "Hold on, hold on," she mutters, seemingly to herself, and disappears again. Elizabeth is about two seconds from demanding to know what the hell is going on when she reappears with a syringe. Before Elizabeth can even ask, Keller is injecting her with something glowing and blue. 

"Just wait for it," she says, her eyes flitting nervously between Elizabeth's arm and her face, looking sick with anticipation. Her hand waves around, tapping some imaginary surface in the air, it seems. She must be counting. "It shouldn't take more than a few seconds before—."

Elizabeth doesn't hear the rest of the sentence as a wave of pure exhaustion hits her. She slumps backwards, and only barely catches herself (okay, so John is the one that catches her. She's momentarily too weak to hold up her own weight). It takes a few seconds, but the haze passes, and she more or less feels normal again. 

"I'm all right," she says, sitting up again, straightening her spine, readjusting her vest. With surprise, she notices that she doesn't feel like a train hit her anymore, either. "I feel a lot better now, actually. Not sick anymore." She gives John an impressed half-grin, then turns to Keller, who still looks sick. "I'm going to have to look you up and recruit you into the Atlantis project when I get home, Doctor Keller. You're a miracle worker!"

Keller shakes her head too-fast, and she's still breathless. "Hardly." She wavers on her feet, and then finally settles into the nearby chair, cupping her head in her hands. She appears to be on the verge of tears.

Elizabeth exchanges an alarmed look with John, wondering for a moment if this is how Keller responds when she treats all her patients (she assumes, however, that since she's flourished for quite a period of time in the Atlantis Expedition, the answer is 'no'). Something really has her attention, apparently. Elizabeth decides to try and calm the young doctor down, because she figures she hasn't exactly had it easy these last few days. 

"So, what's wrong with me, Doc?" she asks in the lightest, cheeriest voice she can muster. God, it sounds _so_ fake. "Is it fatal?"

When Keller looks up and meets her gaze with the most stricken look she might have ever witnessed on a doctor's face, Elizabeth immediately realizes she's possibly said the worst thing ever. Somehow. 

"Wait. Am I actually dying?" she blurts out, but for all the urgency a question like that should have, there's a strange calm in her voice. That probably was the second wrong thing to ask, but she doesn't like being left in the dark and she'd really like an answer now. Strangely, she finds that despite everything, she doesn't actually think an answer of 'yes' would bother her all that much. She is returning back to a reality where the people she's loved most in the world are all dead, after all. Her family and everyone she grew up with died in the Goa'uld occupation. So many people on Atlantis have died. Maybe her number really is up, this time. 

"It's only fatal if we don't get you back to your reality soon," Keller finally says, her voice yet more pained than before. 

Elizabeth frowns. "I don't understand."

The doctor exchanges a look with John, who looks puzzled. "Neither do I," she answers. She stands and comes to rest in front of both John and Elizabeth. "You're in an advanced stage of entropic cascade failure."

For a moment, she thinks she's misheard Keller. Or at least terribly misunderstood _something_ along the way about how all this works. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Doctor, but isn't that impossible? This isn't my first rodeo. I've heard about all this before. And besides, didn't you people all tell me that I wouldn't be subject to entropic cascade failure here because your Elizabeth Weir is dead?"

So much for gentle wording. Again. Elizabeth wants to smack herself for saying it like that.

"Yes. You'd _only_ be afflicted with entropic cascade failure if our Elizabeth Weir were alive."

Still confused, she looks over to John, hoping for some clarification, but he looks like the bottom just dropped out of his entire world. 

It's only a few more seconds before realization sets in. Oh. _Oh._

 _She's not dead._ The realization feels sharper than a bucket of ice water dumped on her head.

And then the bottom drops out of her world, too. 

This universe and hers are entwined in a terrifying harmony of precision, too many threads, too many echoes repeated. Everything is the same. The pieces may look different and be in different places, but the puzzles of both realities make the same picture. Only a few tiny forks in the road. but they all lead back to the same junctions. If _she's_ not dead...

Much, much quieter, a voice whispers to her, like a forbidden wish she dares not give voice: _Then neither is he._

* * *

She's set up in a bed near her Teyla and Ronon. They've been getting treatments since the moment they first set foot through the Stargate, so they look fine and profess to feel only slightly ill. Elizabeth hasn't consistently received treatment, so she wonders if she looks half as bad as she feels. Probably. Well, at least the medicine makes her feel good. 

Ronon is resting, his eyes closed, but that doesn't mean he's asleep. He's always listening, it seems. She fondly remembers word games he used to play with her John. Linguistic something-or-anothers, things she doesn't know, because the both of them were polyglots and understood what went into the phonetics of a language. They'd break into incomprehensible strings of chatter that would get faster and faster until one would stutter, then the other would bellow in victory. She had no idea what they were even doing, or what the rules were, or what constituted a victory or a loss. It made it no less fun to watch.

She smiles warmly at the memory. It is a welcome remembrance, for once. John and his six languages and Ronon with his five, and she has no idea sometimes how to adequately communicate in her own. She knows enough Goa'uld to know when to duck, when to hide, and when to run. And more recently, she can read a little Ancient—John had been teaching her, just before everything went to hell and there was no more John.

Ford leans against the wall nearby, shaking his head with too much giddiness. "So how about that? You became their very own Elizabeth-detector!" 

"Very cute, Major." It comes out more sour than she intended. 

"Sorry, Colonel. I was just trying to lighten the mood, you know?"

She can't help but spare a smile for Aiden. When he first came to Atlantis, he was such a good-hearted kid. He's lived through Wraith enzyme adventures (she'd had to zat him and drag him off that hive ship, though—that hadn't been fun), chases with Michael, and helped save the City more than once. He'll make colonel one day for himself, she has no doubt. If he hangs on long enough (hell, if _she_ hangs on long enough), he might even take over for her as the military commander of Atlantis.

"What of the parallels between Colonel Sheppard's life here, and yours in our reality?" Teyla inquires. 

"Ah," Elizabeth intones, "now you're thinking like I'm thinking."

"It'd be something," Ford says, that ever-youthful smile growing on his face again. Christ, he's absolutely dauntless. "From what you've said, everything here is just like it is back home, just... switched around, you know?"

"He's still in stasis," Ronon's steady voice calls out. She turns to look at him, and he's not moved an inch, still lying on his back. But a serene smile is on his face. "Even if he's not, he's alive."

She frowns, her chest lurching at the thought. "Maybe." She shouldn't get her hopes up. 

Oh, to _hell_ with hope. Hope or no hope, she can't ignore this. She _won't_ ignore this. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did. She doesn't leave her goddamn people behind. 

"He's gotta be!" Ford nearly pleads with her. "Colonel Weir, look at everything that's happened here! It's all the same! It's different people, but it's like a puzzle. The pieces still fit together. The stories are all the same!"

She smiles, despite herself, and closes her eyes. She's not the only one who noticed this strange, backwards-sort-of-harmonic universe, it seems. 

Maybe. _Maybe_. 

"I'll tell you what, though. We're going to find out." She looks up at Ford, and nods.

She closes her eyes, her mind a bit wild in the silence. _I will find you_ , she says, willing her voice to cross time and space. 

_I will always find you._

* * *

It's time to go home. They're preparing the gate now.

John hovers nearby, looking uncertain. Making the first move was never his strong suit, she muses. Maybe that's true in any universe.

"What will you do?" she asks him, her voice light, her eyes soft.

He looks at her, and sees it, then—the beginnings of hope creasing his features, as if he might break if he allows himself to entertain the same thoughts she's been wrestling with. Finally, he settles on a smile. It's one she hasn't seen in a very long time, one that her John used to give her on rare occasions when she'd managed to somehow touch something deep within him (or at least, that's what she likes to think, anyway). 

She likes to think a lot of things, she notices.

"The same thing you're about to do," he answers, and the smile grows into a knowing, confident smirk. It's amazing, now that she thinks about it, that the two of them understand each other so well. Even having lived very similar lives, she wouldn't have imagined a kinship like this. If she didn't love her John so much, and he didn't love his Elizabeth so much, they could almost be a good match. 

She smirks, keeping the thought to herself. Almost. Maybe. She had deflected his come-on a few days earlier, after all. So maybe not?

The gate makes a connection, and she stares at the event horizon for a few beats longer than is comfortable. That's when she feels it, too, when she _allows_ it to come alive. That small, frail feeling of hope blossoming in her chest, warming her from the inside. "Well, she'll be in good hands, then," she tells John.

He chuckles, his eyes never leaving her. "So will he." 

Hope: Frail, fleeting, and powerful. 

Elizabeth can't help it. She turns and embraces him, feeling younger than she's felt in years. "Thank you. For everything."

He exhales harshly against her neck, but his voice betrays nothing. "Thank you for getting lost and ending up here." He squishes her just a bit tighter. "I might have never known, otherwise."

She pulls back, and smiles warmly. "Of course you would." She takes a steadying breath. "It might have taken a little longer, but we both would have found out, sooner or later." For the first time in years, she believes it—truly believes it. "I see it so clearly now."

His eyes soften, but his face remains carefully schooled. It's clear he isn't convinced. "You're so certain."

She places her hand on the strap of her P-90. Maybe he needs reminding? Or maybe they never even had this conversation here? She's never told this story to anyone else...

He looks so lost. 

Well, decision made. That was easy. She starts talking.

"So, when I was trapped in the Ancient Sanctuary—you know, the one with the time dilation field? You and the others finally found a way through after all that time. Imagine my surprise when I found out that six months for me had been just a few hours for you!"

He chuckles. "I remember that. I was kind of mad it took you guys so long..."

She cocks her head to the side. "I was never mad. I just felt so relieved when I finally saw you and the others." She shifts her weight, and smiles. "Do you remember what you said to me?"

He looks regretful. "What the hell took you so long?" His quotes himself in a mocking tone. "Then I accused you of leaving me in there for six months before giving anyone a chance to explain anything."

She frowns for a beat, then shakes it off. "Huh. That's not what happened in my universe." She has to take another steadying breath, remembering it. "When you and the others first appeared, I walked up to you, and said, 'You found me'. Right away, I felt so foolish and dumb after having said it, being kind of shocked and emotional, and directing the comment right at you like that." She closes her eyes. "But I just kind of knew all along, deep down, that Atlantis would never give up on me."

She has to pause, because she's not going to cry. Nope. "And then you were there," she continues softly, "and all I could say, the only damn words that I could form were, 'You found me,' like some kind of fool."

He smiles. It's fond, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "And what did Doctor Sheppard say to that?"

All at once, the emotions of the last few days, the discovery that this Elizabeth is still alive and her John is almost certainly still alive, it all overwhelms her at once. When she opens her eyes, a tear sneaks its way out of her left eye, running down her face, her voice moist as she speaks.

"I will _always_ find you."

His smile dissolves instantly. His expression is unreadable, but she has no illusions to the pain he feels—the pain they both share. She imagines, at this late date in the game, they're both good at schooling their emotions. 

After a moment, he regains his composure, nods, but his voice betrays him. "And I always will."

Elizabeth smiles. If anything could have given her more faith, it was that proclamation, right there. "See? _That's_ how I know. It may have been a different John that said it, but it's still you." She wipes at her face, and takes a few steps backwards until she's standing with her team. "Be sure you tell her that." She decides to lighten her tone. "Ladies go for that stuff, you know."

"First thing," he says. "Well, maybe second thing. But it'll be right at the top of the list."

She nods. "It's been a pleasure, Colonel. Thank you for offering us the hospitality of Atlantis."

"Atlantis _Prime_. You can't forget the 'prime.' It makes it sound cooler."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes, and salutes him instead. Out of the corner of her eye, Major Ford does the same. John returns the gesture, his expression more alive and hopeful than she's seen since arriving here. It takes everything she has to finally turn around and start walking towards the gate, but she does. She _must_. Her team follows in suit.

She doesn't hesitate before stepping through the event horizon. She has someone to rescue on the other side, after all.

* * *

M85-393 looked exactly as she remembered it, minus the giant T-Rex that'd chased them through the Stargate before. Well, thank goodness for that. She wouldn't want to return to her universe and get eaten by a proto-dinosaur first thing.

Before, they'd been visiting during nighttime because it'd been thought that the days would be uncomfortably hot. Well, she can commend Zelenka on formulating a correct theory, for once. Even though they'd timed their arrival to hopefully get there during the dark hours, it seemed that the planet was rotating at a slightly different cycle here. It was daytime and _roasting_ hot. How in the world did the other universe ever even seriously consider this place as an Alpha Site?

Oh, right. Siege. Wraith. Utter desperation. Makes sense.

"Have we truly arrived back in our reality?" Teyla inquires, as they exchange hesitant glances with each other. 

Elizabeth considers it for a moment. "I don't feel the effects of entropic cascade failure anymore. I think."

Ronon nods. "It's gone. Seems like it lifted instantly."

"I, too, feel much better." 

"Yikes. It must have been hard for you guys," Ford comments, looking pained on their behalf. Elizabeth rolls her eyes.

"Time to pay the piper," she says. "Dial the gate for Atlantis, Major. This is going to be a fun briefing."

As the gate activates, she sends their IDC through, and stands ready with her radio. "Atlantis, do you read? This is—."

"Colonel Weir! Is that you?" She hasn't heard many more welcome sounds than Peter Grodin's voice on the other end of that radio. 

"It's us, Peter. Are we clear to come through?"

The next voice she hears is Woolsey's. "Elizabeth? Do you know I've had everyone from the Riva to the Genii looking for you? Where have you and your team been?"

"A gate accident took us to an alternate universe's Atlantis," she says. "There's a lot to explain, but our alternate selves were very gracious in helping us to return home." She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip again. God, she really has to quit doing that, or it's going to crack open and bleed at the worst time possible. "You'll have to ask Ford, he understands it."

The radio is silent for a few beats. "You're clear to come through. We'll discuss it in the briefing."

She starts to lower her radio, but her heart flutters and a smile warms her face. "And Richard? You're not going to _believe_ what we have to tell you."

* * *

* * *

She feels so tired, like she's been sleeping forever and even if she slept for eternity, it would never be enough sleep. 

There is hissing in her ear, the whooshing of air. The sound of voices muffled through glass and—.

The stasis chamber. She's in a stasis chamber. She remembers a dizzying amount of things with a start, her head aching with too much information.

She can't move yet, her limbs yet paralyzed from the mix of chemicals in the air and the retreating stasis field, but faintly, she feels terror, deep and ragged. Oberoth put her in here for storage. She can't imagine why he's waking her up. She doubts it's anything good.

It's strange, though. She doesn't _feel_ Oberoth anymore. She doesn't feel any of the replicators. There is no buzzing of a million consciousnesses at the back of her mind. Only her own mind, groggy and trying to strain for alertness and physical mobility. 

She thinks she can make out some of the voices outside the glass. "—exactly where she'd said it'd be!"

"But how long will it take?"

"Another thirty seconds, maybe? Possibly?"

Those voices sound suspiciously familiar. Is this a trick? Are the replicators toying with her? But she really can't sense them _anywhere_. Ever since they captured her and linked her with themselves, they haven't been able to pull this level of a trick on her. As long as there are active nanites in her brain, she's always been able to hear the Asuran collective.

The door to the chamber hisses open, and she takes in a lungful of real air. It makes her dizzy, but she's glad she can lean back against the stasis chamber for a moment. Her eyelids feel sluggish. Doesn't she have nanites to compensate for this stuff?

Maybe they're gone. Wouldn't that be a wondrous dose of mercy. She could die a human. 

More voices. Maybe she can open her eyes? It takes a ridiculous amount of effort, but she manages.

Her vision is poor, so blurry that she can only make out a shadowy figure in front of her. A grayish form that is starting to lean into the pod. 

"Elizabeth?"

Her entire body goes still at the sound of _that_ voice. She scrunches her eyes shut, tries furiously to blink away the fuzziness, and finally, _finally_ she can see John Sheppard looming over her. His face is vulnerable, raw, hopeful, a million things at once. 

She swallows thickly, trying to make her voice work. It takes a moment. "You found me." She's astonished that he's managed it. She knew they'd look, but she never hoped to dream they'd find her here, of all the godforsaken places in the Pegasus Galaxy.

He looks surprised—was it something she said?—but only for the briefest of moments. He places his hand on her cheek, warm and solid, and she leans her face into his palm.

"I will _always_ find you," he murmurs, collecting her in his arms and gently removing her from the pod.

**Author's Note:**

>  _AN:_ This is not the end. I'm hoping to make this the first fic in a series. The next story would follow up on Colonel Weir as she attempts to rescue Doctor Sheppard. Let's hope I get around to writing it.
> 
> Also, credit for the "I will always find you" line goes to ABC's _Once Upon a Time_.


End file.
